The thoughts of me and my dog who used to be Harvey, but is now George, who is Harvey's great-great-great-great-nephew.

Tuesday, June 09, 2015

I DON'T SHOUT!

One of the guests at the tea party I attended last Saturday had her little dog with her. His name was George but unlike our George he didn't even try to look appealingly (and hungrily) at people when they were eating.

His owner said - now I'm not sure if the dog was named first or whether it was chosen deliberately - that her children and husband called them George and the dragon, 'because I shout a lot.'

Now that's one thing I don't do. Except at rugby matches. Husband says I'm incapable but he knows that's not true - because he's been at rugby matches with me. But I definitely don't shout as a norm. I find it hard even to raise my voice. And when I think I'm speaking loudly other people still don't hear me. Or perhaps I should say don't listen to me. Maybe that's it: they hear but don't listen.

I'm leading Zac's tonight; I'm thinking of taking a bell. I might go to a charity shop later, see what I can find that's noisy. I've tried banging something on the counter. It works in that people stop and look at me for a moment ... then they carry on talking.

I'm sure I remember a course of some sort that I took once upon a time where it was explained that men are better at making themselves heard because women's voices tend to get higher (squeakier in my case) as they're raised and the high notes aren't registered by the ear as easily.

Which is my excuse for grabbing a man in Zac's and saying, 'Please tell everyone to shut up now.'

P.S. I just wrote the title of this post and put it in capitals. If only it were as easy to shout in real life.